


all at once

by pendules



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-31
Updated: 2012-12-31
Packaged: 2017-11-23 01:34:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/616600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pendules/pseuds/pendules
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry and Louis, from the bungalow to the US.</p>
            </blockquote>





	all at once

1.

The first thing Louis learns about Harry Styles is that he wants to conquer the whole bloody planet. Within a couple days of knowing him, he'll already know that on top of the world is exactly where he belongs.

Harry makes him feel like he's a kid again, when he thought that anything was possible. When every failure felt like the end of the world, every success elevated you to the stratosphere. Harry still kind of gets like that sometimes, all unbridled enthusiasm and infectious optimism. Louis kind of wants his smile to never go away, wants all that brightness within him to never be extinguished.

There's this time right after the get put together, he gets this weird glint in his eyes, one Louis will see a million times after that, one that says that he has a secret, that he knows something everyone else doesn't. He says, "I believe in us," and it's simple and earnest, and pretty much all they need at that moment.

Louis believes in them too. It's kind of impossible not to right then.

*

It's almost funny how easy it is after that. Especially with Harry. Louis was a little intimidated by him at first, although he'd never admit it. But it's kind of hard not to be. Harry with his effortless charm and ridiculous curls and brilliant green eyes and lopsided smile. Pretty soon, Louis' favourite thing is making him laugh. He gets kind of withdrawn sometimes, and Louis likes coaxing him back out of his shell. It feels like a challenge. It feels like he's getting to see parts of him no one else does.

They spend hours and hours at the bungalow just lying around and talking about whatever random things made their way into their minds. When all five of them weren't hanging out, Harry buggered off with Niall to watch bad telly and communicate in their weird silent language or whatever. (Louis is pretty sure they're actually plotting how to take over the world.) And Louis would go to Liam if he wanted to talk about his Feelings, or Zayn if he didn't want to, because Zayn was adamant that he would not discuss Feelings (his or anyone else's) at all while they were there. (Or ever, really.) It was actually on the list of rules stuck to the fridge when they'd gotten there. They'd each chosen one:

> _1\. No fighting or arguing of any kind. If there is indeed a disagreement, we will settle it like adults. By talking about our feelings. - Liam_  
>  2\. Zayn refuses to talk about his feelings, or anyone else's. - Zayn  
>  3\. That's not actually a rule. - Niall  
>  4\. That's not a rule either. ~~My rule is: no disturbing of anyone's beauty sleep. Thank you. - Harry~~ (This one is actually scratched out multiple times, because it hadn't lasted twelve hours.)  
>  _5\. Band = love. Love your bros. Love yourself. xxx - Louis_  
>  ~~hahahaha, i can't believe you watched that movie.~~  
>  fuck you, the sisterhood gets me on a deeper level.  
> 

*

It's been a week, and Louis thinks, yeah, he could get used to this. And not just in a short-term sense, not just until the competition's over, until they win this thing, hopefully. But longer. Much, much longer. It's hard to have a clear view of what the future is right now. But he wants it. Wants a future of this, with them, with Niall's relaxing presence, and Zayn's quiet (sometimes grudging) understanding, and Liam's almost superhuman reliableness, and Harry... Harry. It's kind of scary when he starts having these thoughts, because he's never really felt like that before. But then again, he's never had anything quite like this before either. It's even scarier to think about losing it.

They usually fall asleep watching movies or just trading random comments about whatever crosses their mind until one of their mumbled replies stopped. It's different this time though. Louis is really quiet and Harry's rambling about God knows what, and maybe it's important, like everything they ever say to each other is important in some way, but he's just concentrating on the hills and valleys of his voice and not the words. He kind of just wants to keep that forever, just that, even if they don't make it, even if they get eliminated the first week and they have to go back home and it's hard to talk to each other anymore because it'll remind them that they failed, they failed _each other_. Louis doesn't ever want to have to deal with that. Maybe Harry's feeling something similar, because it's been a long while since he's responded, but he can feel his eyes still on him. Then he feels the mattress shift, slowly, and Harry's long frame gently pressing up along his side. He feels his warmth, hears his deep breathing. Then his lips are ghosting over Louis', careful but brazen at the same time. Louis doesn't move. 

*

He instinctively reaches out as he wakes up, but his hands only find cold, cold sheets and emptiness.

*

He finds Harry in the kitchen, making an omelette. It's strange, because he's never up this early. Liam and Louis are usually up first, lounging on the porch until the other boys join them. 

"Morning," Harry says, like he was expecting him, the way they've come to naturally anticipate each other's actions. Like nothing's different.

"Morning," Louis replies, suddenly feeling light, relaxed, unworried by the events of last night. He sits at the table, on the opposite side from Harry. And then he looks up from the frying pan, and Louis can tell that a lot has changed. If he hadn't spent so much time memorising Harry's looks and moods, he wouldn't be able to tell, but he can see a world of difference in the way he's looking at him right now.

He can't ignore it. His brain won't allow him to. Whatever indistinguishable part of him that swelled almost to bursting when Harry kissed him won't allow him to.

"So, uh, are we talking about it?"

"Talking about what?" he asks, feigning innocence. He's really a bad, bad liar. And Louis loves that.

"Talking about why you kissed me last night."

"Oh. That. I didn't know you were awake." There's a hint of blush on his cheeks now, even while he's speaking so casually.

"Why'd you do it then?" Louis asks, mimicking his easiness.

Harry takes a deep breath before looking up at him properly for the first time. "I...I just wanted to see what it felt like."

"What it felt like?" Louis isn't sure what he was expecting, but it wasn't this.

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"Because... Because sometimes I think I want to be more than your friend." He doesn't look at him while he says it, turns back to the stove, but it's the kind of bold statement Harry always surprises him with. Something truthful and direct, like he just wants everything to be simple and well-defined. Ambiguity has always been frustrating to him.

This kind of complicates things instead, though.

Louis slowly gets off his chair, makes his way around the table. He can see Harry's hands shake a little, like he didn't quite prepare for this part. Louis gets really close, reaches in front of him to turn off the burner. He can feel Harry exhale where his chest is pressed up against Harry's side. His hands linger on his hips and then they're turning his body (and Harry just lets him) until they're facing each other properly. Harry's eyes are still slightly down-turned, and Louis reaches up to gently brush some curls off his forehead, then lets his hand move down to cup his jaw. He nudges his chin up with his thumb. He finally looks right into his eyes, smiles, bigger and brighter than Louis's ever seen. He smiles back, and it's light and familiar and yet so thrilling at the same time. They meet somewhere in the middle, trading heavy, breathless kisses, not taking it slow at all, Harry's hands quickly wandering from Louis' waist to the skin under the edge of this t-shirt, Louis' fingers carding through Harry's hair.

Liam finds them about half-an-hour later, more than a little sleep-rumpled and trying not to look at each other, breakfast only half-cooked.

*

He isn't sure who finds out first, although he's willing to bet on Niall. Niall actually seems to know about everything that happens (his clueless act is just that, an act). Louis is pretty sure he has a whole arsenal of dirt on all of them, but he'll keep quiet until it's useful to him. Or maybe he really doesn't care. Thinking about it is still mildly terrifying, though. He doesn't say anything about it though, as is his way, so it's hard to really tell. Zayn is actually the first one to openly acknowledge it.

"Please, just don't... _do_ anything where I sleep. Or eat. Or happen to occupy at any point in time. It's only courteous."

But Zayn probably wouldn't figure it out on his own, and since Niall's resolutely not saying anything, Liam has to know too. He's the one Louis is the most worried about. But he doesn't say anything either. At least not in any clear terms.

He just looks at them strangely sometimes. Not disapproving, just a little concerned. It's like he's asking them, _Are you sure this is worth it?_ Louis still isn't quite sure what they, as a band, are right now or what they potentially could be in the future. And he sure as hell doesn't know if this thing with Harry is really even a _thing_ yet. So there's no answer. There are a lot of new dynamics and situations to get used to, and not a lot of time to do it. He loves the other boys, genuinely and truly, but he's never had such a complex relationship before, much less with four people at the same time. It's kind of hard to even get his head around it.

*

"You think this thing will work out?" he asks, more to the ceiling than to Harry.

Harry turns on his side to look at him. Louis can see him frowning slightly in his periphery.

"You mean, us? The band?" He sounds like he hasn't even considered it up until this point, like he's just been enjoying every step of the way. Like Louis should be, maybe. He feels like an ungrateful prat suddenly, even though Harry's gaze is not particularly accusing, just a little confused.

"Yeah."

"If was up to us, then yeah, definitely," he says with more conviction than Louis can speak about anything. "But it's not just about us."

He turns away again. Louis keeps staring at the ceiling, wondering if whatever the two of them have will ultimately not only be about them either. 

 

2.

He's exhausted and buzzed at the same time; it feels like he's running on pure adrenaline. Their first X Factor performance, and it feels _real_ for the first time, and that's suddenly exciting and not nerve-wracking like the past few weeks have been. That's probably why he doesn't resist when Harry pulls him into the shower fully-clothed.

"What - What are you - ?"

He's cut off by Harry's mouth on his, desperate and hard. When his hands settle on his hips and he feels warm, sticky skin, he realises Harry's only in his underwear. 

He only pulls away to mutter into his neck impatiently, "Jesus Christ, take your clothes off."

He's probably never given in to a request so quickly in his life. 

It's a new, intense, almost unnerving sensation: Harry's naked body against his, water cascading between them as their skin and lips slide together. And sure, they've gotten each other off a couple times, but this feels different, more intimate somehow. Like all the layers are gone, like they're both washed clean, laid bare, just for each other. Louis forgets where he is, what they've done tonight, what the future is going to bring, all of it. Then Zayn is yelling for Harry to get the fuck out of the fucking shower, and they both start laughing uncontrollably, Harry covering Louis' mouth with his hand until they think it's safe to come out.

(They still get caught. It's more than worth it.)

*

Harry crawls on top of him in his bunk that night. They trade heated kisses for a while, Harry's hands wandering everywhere, Louis trying to maintain control as they go just a little too far south...

Louis pulls away suddenly, stopping Harry's hands with his own.

"What's wrong?" Harry demands.

"Do you... Do you want to?" he says quietly, looking up at him searchingly.

Harry just looks back, eyes dark, intense. He nods once, firmly.

It's kind of the opposite of everything they've done before: slow and careful but kind of awkward at the same time, not impulsive and instinctive and so, so natural like it's all been for them from the start. It's kind of perfect though, Louis thinks, when Harry's sleeping half on top of him in the too-small bunk, arms still around him, hair an unmitigated mess, and expression utterly spent but so happy.

*

Louis feels frozen in the spot he's standing on stage. It feels like layers of the world are collapsing all around him, like he's in the eye of the storm. Part of him wishes he didn't care so much, but then he looks around and sees Harry's face, Harry who cares so much, about this, and not letting everyone down, letting himself down. He looks like he's about to completely fall apart, but Louis is stuck, watching the world fall apart instead, and he can't do anything.

Niall steps over to him, wraps his arms around his suddenly so tiny frame, and he's grateful. He tries not to catch Harry's eyes over Niall's shoulder though. He hates feeling so weak, so useless. He's ashamed for a moment, that he can't be stronger, that he can't be there for his friends when that's all he's ever wanted to do.

He wishes he didn't fall in love with things so hard, so fast. He wishes love were more forgiving.

He wishes dreams could sustain themselves if you only wanted them hard enough.

* 

Harry keeps saying, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," over and over again like a bloody stuck record. He kind of wants to grab him and shake him and tell him it's not his fucking fault. He kind of wants to yell at him to _just shut up, it's not all about you_. He wants to hurt him for being such an idiot. He wants to hold him close and protect him from life's disappointments, from everything bad in the world that should never, ever happen to him.

He doesn't do anything.

Niall puts an arm around Harry, and eventually he gets him to stop talking. The rest of them just sit in silence, avoiding eye-contact at all costs.

It's all been so unpredictable, from the very beginning. But then, it was new and exciting and just doing it and doing it together was enough. Now, there's nothing. It feels like there's nothing left.

*

He's alone and packing when Louis finds him. He stops and drops on to the bottom bunk when he sees him, shifting over so Louis can get in next to him. 

"Hey."

"Hey," Harry replies, voice raspy, like he's afraid to say too much, say the wrong thing.

"I didn't realise how much losing all of this would hurt."

"Hey," he says, reaching out to grab his arm, forcing Louis to look at him. "You're not losing anything. Not really."

"I don't want to lose you," he says, and he feels more vulnerable than he ever has.

He expects Harry to brush that away too, but instead he wraps both his arms around his shoulders, and pulls him in until his forehead touches Louis' temple and he can feel his steady, warm breath on his face.

They end up curled up together, so intertwined Louis can't tell where he ends and Harry begins. Maybe that's the problem. Holding the pain and insecurities and fears of one person is too much to bear sometimes, much less two. It's not the end of the world, but they can let themselves feel like it is, just for a moment. Together.

Liam comes in in the middle of a tirade about how their sulking is putting off the entire band and how it's just a minor bump in the road, and stops mid-sentence when he sees them.

"Oh. Okay. I'll just - go then."

They laugh almost in sync, a single vibration passing through both their bodies. It feels like the beginning again, instead of an end.

 

3.

They're backstage before the first show of the tour, hands linked, about to go on. Liam's already given his long-winded (but always heartfelt) pep talk, but they're still waiting for something.

A moment before Harry was buzzing with his usual nervous energy, but then he just starts smiling, at no one in particular, caught up in his own little world, in some kind of serene and transcendental state. He nods at all of them, utterly composed.

"It's going to be great. We're going to be great."

And they are. There's nothing else to be.

*

Being on the road is kind of a blur of days that bleed into each other, airports and hotels that all look like each other, and a constant feeling of deja vu. If he wasn't with the other guys, he thinks he'd probably go crazy. It's kind of nice though, seeing new places, seeing the fans up close and personal, the rush you get from performing in front of a huge crowd every single time. Maybe they could do this. Maybe this is what they were meant to do. It's not too hard to believe that, when he looks across at them every night, the music and the screams of the crowd fading away into the background as he realises this is really only the beginning.

Sometimes he gets this weird urge to hold Harry's hand on stage. It's hard to push it away.

*

Harry's gone off with some girl, and he's drunk enough to feel only slightly numb about it. It's fine. It's...whatever. It's not fair for him to try to stop him. They're not even... Harry's young, and every girl in the country wants a piece of him, and he should get to enjoy that. He should get to enjoy all of it. He should've know that this _thing_ wouldn't stay that way forever. They've kind of been living in a vacuum for a while, just tied up in each other and the band and the show, but it's different now. And there's a whole world out there.

Maybe he hates that world just for a second. Because it gets a part of Harry, and maybe he'll never have it back.

*

He gets really pissed during the last week of the tour, and he's waiting up in Harry's room for the first time.

"Louis? Jesus, you scared the shit out me. Why are you sitting in the dark?" He turns the light on.

"Are you drunk?" he asks, raising an eyebrow, almost looking like he's about to laugh.

"You're one to talk," Louis slurs.

"What - what are you doing?"

"Just - just waiting for you."

"Louis -" It's like a warning. Like, _let's not, let's just not._

"I just - I need to know something."

"Louis, just, don't." He sounds so young suddenly. "We were having fun, won't we? Can we just not - complicate things?"

He kind of wants to yell at him, _They already are. Can't you see that?_

"Yeah. Right," he replies instead, words empty, and they both know that.

Harry gives a little half-sigh. "I'm going to bed. I'll see you in the morning."

"Yeah," he says, nods without looking up at him. 

He leaves quickly without catching his eyes.

*

He feels more terrible than he ever has when he wakes up. There's a note stuck to his face that someone must have left on his pillow.

It reads: _I don't want to lose you either._

*

Zayn's started keeping count. "How many is that now? Five?"

"Shut up, Zayn," Louis and Liam say at the same time.

"Four, actually. The ginger? Didn't happen. But you didn't hear that from me," Niall says casually.

Louis almost laughs. He wonders if he's a masochist.

Zayn looks at him kind of morosely.

*

It stays at four though. Maybe he's bored now. Maybe he realises it's not what he wants. Maybe he's feeling guilty. And that's the last thing Louis wants. 

He slips into Louis' bed the morning of their last show, just rests his head on Louis' chest, stays really, really quiet.

After a while, Louis says, gently, "You don't owe me anything."

Harry turns his head to look up at him, breathing against his collarbone. He shakes his head slightly.

"No, I owe you everything."

*

After the show, Harry tugs him in by his braces, and they just look at each other, that close up, smiling, before he kisses him. He feels, for the first time, like he's really allowed to have this. Like he's allowed to have Harry. He knows that Harry can't ever really belong to one person, and he's okay with that, he is, but he just wants to be selfish for one moment. For this moment. 

There are lots of other moments that are not theirs though. And maybe it's become habit, but he always pulls away from Louis before he leaves any marks.

 

4.

The fastest-selling album of the year, a number one single and a scheduled headlining tour later, it's kind of weird to be back at the place where it all started. It's kind of weird in terms of everything else that's happened too. Harry and he, they've been in a difficult place for a while. And yeah, Harry has a girlfriend too now, and they're getting more attention than ever, so things have had to cool down a bit. But Louis, he's only now started to feel the weight of it, of this thing they got themselves into and really aren't ever going to be able to let go of. Louis has never questioned whether it's worth it or not. It's the only thing he's certain of, in this crazy, new life they've all been thrown into.

He's lying on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, reminiscing and feeling like a sap. It's kind of insane that it's only been eighteen months, since all of this started, since his life changed forever, not just because of the show but because of four other people. It's pretty amazing to think that no matter what happens, they'll always be intrinsically linked to each other in some way. He knows they will be. It's not always easy though.

He can hear Harry down the hall, his conversation with Caroline quickly dissolving into an argument. It should be worrying how much he doesn't care anymore about if they're going to break up or not. It doesn't matter either way.

When he hears the door open, he groans and turns to face the wall.

"I'm sick of your moping, Tomlinson," says Liam's voice. 

He feels him sit down on the edge of the bed. "I swear, I will tickle you. I know all your weak spots."

He doesn't respond. 

"Okay, fine... Three... Two..."

Louis dodges his outstretched arms, and finally sits up to look at him. 

"You don't know my weak spots though. No one knows my weak spots."

"Oh, that's right. It's Harry's I was thinking of."

Liam tries not to be too meddlesome, and it's genuinely hard for him, because he cares about all of them so much. Louis knows that. Louis knows the look he gets when he wants so badly to say something, do something, anything, but he knows that it won't help. He knows how much that always gets to him. He doesn't ever just ignore things though. It's not his way. And Louis is grateful for that sometimes.

"This... this isn't a messy hotel room or an out of sync harmony. You can't fix this, Liam." He wishes he could. He wishes anyone could.

"Well, I can bloody well try, can't I? Come on, tell Daddy Direction everything." They haven't had a lot of direct conversations about their relationship with any of the other boys. (But then again, they haven't talked to each other about it much either.) Louis gets it now. They weren't just refusing to acknowledge it; they were trusting that Louis and Harry had made the right decision. They were trusting them. Maybe they were wrong to. Maybe they don't have anything figured out at all. Liam looks actually concerned for the first time since it started. Louis feels like he let him down a little.

"I just - sometimes I wish it happened differently, you know?"

"You think you got into it too fast."

"Yeah, maybe. But I knew that then too. And I still did it. And maybe I'd do it again."

"You really love him, don't you?" It's the first time anyone's ever asked him outright. (Sometimes Harry looks at him strangely, like he's dreading something, like he thinks he's going to say something that will change everything, but Louis doesn't ever.)

"Yeah," he says, and he understands now how Harry can say things and mean them so absolutely.

Liam just pats his shoulder slowly, like he's sorry about something.

*

The thing is, sometimes Louis thinks that there are these two totally opposite people living inside Harry's body. Sometimes he's reckless and wild and a little bit self-destructive, totally unencumbered by any fears or insecurities, totally uninhibited. And then other times, he's weird and distant and quiet, like he's scared, like he's not sure who he's supposed to be anymore. Like he needs to take a break from being anyone at all.

Basically, sometimes he can be a total asshole. And sometimes he's so, so fragile.

Louis hates when these two things seem to happen almost simultaneously.

He's always the one who has to pick up the pieces.

*

They're stretched out on Liam's bed (because all the others are currently occupied by clothes and shoes and basically the entire contents of their respective suitcases).

"Do you ever think that you're turning into someone you don't like?"

"I think everyone feels like that sometimes," Louis says, soothingly.

"I just - I just want to live, you know? I want to make the most of it." It sounds like he's pleading with him to understand, even though he really doesn't have to.

"Yeah," Louis breathes out. "Yeah."

He threads his fingers through Harry's hair, presses a light kiss to his forehead, and he falls asleep like that, curled up against Louis' body.

Louis just watches him sleep for a while, watches the worry lines fade away.

He thinks if he can just have this, only this, he'll be content.

 

5.

They backstage at the Brits, and Louis practically has to yell it into his ear.

"I don't want to do this anymore."

"Do what?" he yells back, the smile on his face still blinding.

"The girls, the pretending."

"Maybe...maybe we should talk about this later," he says, expression falling flat, eyes becoming stony fast.

"No. Fuck. You always say that, and -"

"Louis, please, just - just don't, okay?"

He hardly sees him for the rest of the night, and then he's gone, in a whirl of pink satin and overwhelming perfume and too much champagne.

He doesn't sleep at all; he knows exactly when he comes in, about four in the morning. He goes straight to his room, and he doesn't come out.

Louis lies in bed awake for hours. He starts writing text messages, all of which he deletes right away.

_im not mad. not about the girl._

_im sorry. i shouldn't have -_

_i love you more than anything._

_tell me you don't -_

*

Niall's sharing with Harry, and he claims he's sleeping off the jetlag, but everyone knows otherwise. They have an unspoken agreement to not talk about "The Harry and Louis Thing", but Louis really does not give a fuck right about now.

"I just want to know if he's okay. I know he talks to you about...things."

"Actually, he doesn't really."

"What?"

"He doesn't have to."

"So, what am I supposed to do with that then?" Sometimes, Harry is just so fucking frustrating. He's never really stopped to think that maybe it's not just because of him.

"He loves you a lot," Niall says simply. "I think that kind of scares him."

Louis sighs. It's a bit ridiculous how Niall can tell more from not talking to Harry at all than he could from two years' worth of conversations.

*

Harry's sitting cross-legged on his bed when he comes in, like he's waiting for him. He remembers that morning in the kitchen at the bungalow when he knew things were going to get more complicated, but he didn't care. He didn't quite expect this though. He closes the door, and sits on the farthermost edge of the bed, like he's afraid to get any closer.

When Harry starts speaking, the words sound like they're coming from a great distance away. 

"Sometimes, I think we don't hear each other at all. That we're so close that it's all just static, and the important stuff gets lost."

"I don't know how to fix that," Louis says, almost despairingly. He feels like a failure; he knows Harry hates failing. And Louis's the one who wanted this so, so desperately. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe he hasn't been seeing or hearing clearly this entire time. Sometimes, he feels like his entire focus has been narrowed to one thing and one thing only: Harry. And it's hard, and scary, and he doesn't know how to not affect him with everything he does. He doesn't know how to not be affected.

"I don't think we can fix it," Harry says, shaking his head. His eyes are hollow just like his words. Louis just wants him to be happy, wants him to be bright and beautiful Harry who he first saw in line at the auditions looking like all his dreams were going to come true. Louis wants them to come true more than anything, even if it won't be him making that happen.

"Don't look at me like that," he says a second later, sounding even more broken.

"Like what?"

"Like you're going to break up with me and pretend it's the noble thing to do. We're not even together, you asshole," he says with a dry laugh. Louis hates the sound of it; it's so unlike any sound he's ever heard him make.

"We're not?" His tone is weary; he's so exhausted, of thinking, of asking the same question over and over again. He just wants an answer, even it's the wrong one.

"I don't know what we are," Harry says, and it's heavy, like he's a giving up a secret he's held on to for a thousand years.

"So, you finally know how I've felt all this time." He doesn't mean for it to be so cutting.

"I'm sorry, Louis. I'm so, so sorry." His eyes are wide, pooling with tears, but he doesn't take them off Louis' face.

"Sorry for what? Deciding to kiss me that first time?"

Harry looks destroyed at that, and Louis hates himself completely.

"No. God. I'm sorry it wasn't easier. I'm sorry I didn't know how to love you properly."

"It's not your fault," Louis submits, finally. He feels like he's spent a lifetime telling Harry that, and he still hasn't believed him. But he means it now, so completely. He quickly moves right into Harry's space, takes both his hands in his own. He gets so close that Harry's curls brush against his forehead, so close that his world becomes green, green eyes shining with moisture that he curses himself for ever putting there.

"It's not your fault," he says again. He wants to be here to tell him that forever, until he believes. He wants to tell him he loves him until he believes he deserves it.

It's too much; it's gone on too long. Hurting each other is as useless as self-harm. They know that now.

*

Liam's next to him, leaning forward, attentively listening to the interviewer's question, something about the reaction they've been getting in the US. Niall and Zayn are on the other side of him, engaging in some kind of playfighting that apparently involves strategically cuddling and then trying to put each other into a headlock. And Harry's on the other end of the couch. He looks kind of distracted, like he's thinking about something else, or remembering something. He does that sometimes; he just drifts away, and a few moments later, he'll be back, saying something random that he thinks is funny or clever, even if it's not really. He'll be back to Harry. Louis stares at him for a minute, willing him back, willing him to feel his gaze and look up at him. It doesn't take long. Harry smiles at him, looking kind of tired and ragged around the edges, but still bright. Still his Harry. He doesn't take his eyes off him, daring him to keep looking back. He has a flash of him sleeping next to him at the bungalow two years ago, the early morning light playing across his soft features. He'd looked like he wasn't a part of the world yet, like he was frozen in another dimension between night and day. He'd looked peaceful then, like he does now. Louis still prefers when he's waking up though. It's like he's coming alive again, like he's emerging from stone and glass and cold light and silence. He's still smiling at him, open and brave but still infused with so many secret, unsaid things; he's not expecting anything, not communicating anything in particular. Just something like, _I'm glad I'm here with you_. Louis nods, an answer to an unasked question. _Me too._ He thinks it'll be okay. It'll be better than okay.


End file.
